The Astronomer
by liahime
Summary: .short ryuki fanfic. She was in hiding, running from what she was scared of most choosing instead to hide between the night and stars. HIATUS.
1. northstar

**the.astronomer  
**_by liahime, a short ryuki tale. _

**north.star**

She was young and out there, starting fresh in a city where no one knew her name, no one knew her family, no one knew or cared about her in this bustling anthill of anonymous people too wrapped up in their own agendas. She was a bird, to go and run into windows and stay up late, and eat only ramen for breakfast, lunch, dinner all.

She was free.

Free as the bird that had jumped out of the cage of her mother and grandmother- liberated. Let go. Alive. This is what she wanted since the beginning of her life, this first breath of fresh air.

But standing in the open, not a rule or bar to cage her, Rika was lost.

She had never been anyone other than the daughter of the fashion celebrity, the girl with the blurred face of the newspapers, the scary friend of her high school's idol, and so, enemy of the fan girls. She had had her life shaped and pushed in, dented, by so many other subtlelives that here, that here on the fresh paper, her hand faltered making her own mark. All of her life, she had thought she had known what she wanted.

But she was never sure.

Without anyone there, there was no guidance to rebel against, to accept. She had to make her own marks. Rebelling and revels only lasted so long before they grew old and dull. And she, at twenty one, the perfect golden age, had already rebelled throughout childhood, throughout her growing up so much that she was tired of it all- to rebel to simply rebel, of throwing herself into what she did and did not like. She had been there, done that.

But what was she to do now?

She had never had any large urge to go to parties or to solitary retreats, had no fashion extremes to duck and dodge. She could do exactly whatever she wanted without any opposition whatsoever. If she wanted to shave her head, she could do it. If she wanted to wear red checks with green stripes and yellow polka dots, the media would no longer call it Rumiko's latest trend and love it. They'd just stare and walk by, shaking their heads at the strange young woman.

It was as if suddenly, life had gotten so much easier.

And so, in this newfound simplicity, the myriad of choices stretched before her into a maze far more complicated than the one she had had before. Twists and turns and the weighing fact- whatever she did, she did. No one was there to save her.

Life stretched out before her, and she was lost already before taking the first step.

Taking a deep breath, Rika plunged in.

-

Several college scholarships and an evening of headaches later, she had cracked.

This was supposed to be _freedom_?

Pushing it all into her recycling bin, shovingit away into her desk,she decided to do the unthinkable. She packed her clothes, wrote notes, mailed them out, and hopped on the third train to Tomoeda, her community collegeastronomy class application flying ahead of her in cyberspace.

She needed to think now, to stare up at space and fill her silent, screaming head with numbers and cold facts that were logical, that made perfect, solid sense. She wanted to stare past the stars, be alone in darkness, to just have an excuse to get away and scream behind her slammed door- to just think, alone in her own silence.

Everything was changing underneath her feet, shooting up behind her, all around. Jeri was the official beauty of the graduating class. Kazu's voice had cracked and become a singer's, emerging from its high-pitched cocoon. Henry was the love of the universities, his mailbox floodedwith their grants and scholarships. They were all growing up and flowing out of the same pot that they had lived in for a forever and end, flying out into the world of adults.

And Ryo.

Once upon a time, some stupid rule must have been created-that once a guy crossed the line of seventeen, he would become impossible. He would realize more than you wanted him to realize, and ignore every sane point you made for a hamburger, or two, or four hundred. These formerly reasonably sane human beings would be bombarded with baked goods they would inhale cluelessly, and notice, no matter how much effort you put into it, when you skipped lunch for a history test. They would make girls go mushy and sappy and leave Rika, the one everyone took for frozen, to clean up after the mess flatterycreated in an arrogant ego.

But Ryo was brooding now, no longer as happy go lucky as he had been when they had all had their safety nets behind them.He could fall now, and he had realized itas she had- whatever they did now, there was nolonger a parent to wipe up their mess, bandage their heads- and though they bothhad thought themselves above it all, once they had lost it, they realized how much they had needed it. He was thinking for once, he was deeper- and she could tell, without words, that he was older.He still inhaled food with the abandon ofa starved rhinoceros- he was at _least _a head taller, he'd point out each time- and still had an ego and will that was even more obstinate than hers. He was clueless and all seeing, the human paradox. Akiyama still met her glares with a smile, but they had gone past that now, in so many layers and layers of years and ages- she could tell.

He wanted something more.

Every time he looked at her, she had found out- slowly, to her own disgust at her own stupidity, and his- that there was something he left unsaid each time, in each look. There was something he would tell her, something he would pass onto her quietly, waiting for it to accept. He didn't want to just push it ontoher and get an instant response- she could deal with that- but leftit there, one more stepclimbing up to hertower.If a lake was what was in between them, he would have had only a spoon.

But somehow, it seemed that he would keep scooping water out of thelake, spoonful by spoonful, until it emptied. Add stone and step after step until he reached the peak of her tower. He would not stop- just add more and more until she too tipped- getting faster and faster, closer with each slow step-

And she, the girl who had saved Japan anonymously, who had battled through out the real and cyber world- this ice queen with the heart of stone-

Maybe she was a bit scared of this.

Breathing in, breathing out, Rika Nonaka had boarded the 3:30 train, and fled north.

-


	2. sirius

**the.astronomer  
**_by liahime, a short ryuki tale. _

**.sirius02. **

She was in hiding.

Her red hair was swinging around her shoulders, falling out as she dozed, anonymous, on the northbound train. College students swirled around her, chattering as they pulled out purses, ate their sandwiches.

First test. If she truly was gone, no one would notice her, the silent girl half-staring, half sleeping, leaned against the window. No one would ask for autographs from the girl who saved her country, no one would ask for discounts or photos.

Fame didn't become Rika. She did not care for it, nor did it care for her. They kept eye contact, but only as long as necessary, and parted on their separate ways. Fame's glitter did not care to compete with one who rejected it, always moving onto something else, some one who would care for its splendid glory.

Someone like Akiyama Ryo.

Ryo had basked in the glow of it all. There was a girl on his arm almost every week of high school, a new face she had to accept for his pride's sake every time. _Pedophile, _she had grumbled inwardly. _A stupid one that prefers his girls as two dimensional stick figure sluts. _

And as much she repeated it over and over, she knew it wasn't true. She just preferred it that way. The guy wasn't _that_ bad. He was just too close to Fame's glory for her. He had lived in it, drank it in, and was impossible to imagine without it. There was no way he could be anonymous anywhere. Even if she shipped him off in a duct taped box to the coldest reaches of the South Pole, the world would follow him and start a fan base with the adoring penguins.

The thing that scared her was he was used to getting everything, simply because he always did. It was his personality, as well as hers. What they wanted, they got. What they got, they kept until it was useless. And so if Ryo Akiyama wanted her, he would go after her- fan clubs following with their cell phone cameras all the way- chasing Rika on and on until the ends of the earth.

It wasn't Akiyama himself that scared her. She could deal with this. One personthat she had known for years would not be able to shake a queen so harshly. It was what he was made of that scared her- of determination that would hunt her down until he caught her.

She had once wondered what it would be like to give up, for a second or two, on silent days. To just give up to his hunt, stay in peace- it offered an easier life. No more making sure that neither Ryo nor girl friend of the week was hurt. She would not have to be on her guard all the time, constantly throwing down each stone he put up.

She could relax.

But that was the lazy way out, she decided, the lazy, unpleasant way that she would firmly oppose for the rest of her life. Because she too had a core of iron, and this was merely escaping a siege, planning for a second counterattack. Rika was not running, she reminded herself, from Akiyama. She was running for herself. It became her mantra, reminder of the purpose that was meant to be.

She was running merely so that she would not lose herself in everyone else. So that she would be purely Rika, one hundred percent unadulterated by any hero-boy or fame. Stay with something long enough, the saying had gone, and it will rub off on you. This was escape from it, she told herself.

But try as she might, each rattle of the train struck a different note against it, putting the rest of the truth along with the wishes. It wasn't just the hero-boy she was running from. Because maybe it wasn't only Ryo slowly stacking stones up to the tower. If she was tempted, then one day she might- just _might, _though the chances were tiny, she protested indignantly- to let a ladder dangle down from a tower.

One day, her siege could be broken. And as tiny as the chances were- they were there.

So Nonaka Rika wasn't just running from Ryo.

She was running from herself.

"Oh, wow! Look, look, Masaki! Over there!"

"It's her! Look at that gorgeous red hair. It's impossible to miss- like a flame."

"I should have brought my sister's cereal collection! An autograph would make the prices _skyrocket!_"

-"_You'd think the whole thing would have died down by now, neh, Rika?" _It had been a quiet moment, she remembered. One where Ryo- for once- didn't have a girlfriend. One where she- for once- could relax, because Ryo stopped the hunt when he became distracted- gloomy over the loss of a girl who had- for once- dumped _him. _It was a rare day for all three to be together. A truce between both sides, attacking and defending.

Or would have been.

Because it was also the day that Kenta and Kazu ha found _it. _He was rubbing it into everyone's- and anyone's- face in loud surround sound, cereal flying out of his mouth as he looked for a re-release of everyone's favorite heroes, including- who else- Kazu and Kenta. Four boxes of cereal, eight plastic figurines later, he was still going strong.

She had looked at the two small figurines, mounted on the same plastic base. One was beaming; the other had an out of character grin on her face as the two waved to cereal buyers. "Even plastic and Rice Krispies can't change ugliness, Akiyama. Don't worry. Just live with the truth of how your face looks like. There are no miracles."-

The two toys had found their way into the garbage, along with their matching cardboard information sheet. "Did you know," the cute cardboard had read in its pink lettering. "that Akiyama Ryo and Nonaka Rika are the Digimon King and Queen of the card game?"

Why yes, little paper, she did. People would point this out every time, as if determined to hook her up with a boyfriend, as if that was an essential part of a satisfactory life. As if that tournament that had happened so long ago connected them as soul mates.

Honestly.

She was ready to crumble the paper up, when the second pink sentence caught her eye.

"Did you know that Rika and Ryo, not only being the Queen and King in cards, are also a king and queen together in reality-"

The pink information sheet, along with the rest of the cereal boxes, were thrown into the trash compactor, and Rika, silent, had left early, plans already coming up in her mind. Because if a cereal company started to hint at it, there wasn't much she could do.

Her eyes blinked open to a chaos.

"Masaki, Masaki! I'm not lying! It's the hottie's girlfriend!" The excited girl waved to Masaki, plastic figurine in hand. "You know, the one with the nice hair!"

"I'm so glad I bought that cereal box for my brother!" Grocery bags were being pillaged, looking for a souvenir to remember Japan's quietest heroine.

"MASAKI!"

"Do you think she'll autograph my shoes? They're Rumiko signature line!"

"Oh- right, her mother is Rumiko! She could be one too- that would be so cute!"

"I need an autograph! A celebrity on the 32 BTomoeda line!"

She turned her face away from autographs, leaving the excited girls standing uncertain, awkward in the jolting path of the railway, pens and camera phones in hand. The heroine sighed, and turned up the volume on her CD player.

_First thing, Tomoeda, I'm dying my hair._

_--_

**Kari Minamoto**- oh, this isn't going to be a oneshot. Nothing huge and enormous, but not that short either. I'm not at this point either, but I also wondered what it would be like..  
**misanu-** I love silent readers emerging! I'm glad you like this take on a ryuki. It's new for me, and more difficult as well.  
**karika88-**One more chapter for you! I'm glad it's not totally boring... Plot's going to come soon, I swear>  
**Dolce Saito- **Yay, I remember you! Glad to be back and writing again. It feels good. Updates as soon as I get my computer back from a move, everyone.  
**starof06.- **I'm glad this doesn't sound phony or fake. I'm trying to write a realistic fiction again. After fantasy, it gets a bit hard. More is coming!  
**takari freek-** If my story makes someone think, then I'm glad. It was more than I hoped for. I'll try to update ASAP.

**Thank you everyone, for my lovely welcome. Thank you times a million and forty two by a googleplex. Seriously. **

**authoress emerges! (like in that movie.. um, I think it was called Alien? haha..)**

anyways, I'm happy to be back, everyone. Your reviews are making my day. Especially since my computer is being packed up, since I'm moving from my most beloved Oregon to Georgia. I haven't been writing here very much because of writers' block, as well as just... I was busy, I was lazy, and I was trying to branch out. This story is going to be a stab at writing something short... unlike Thorns, which was a huge ryuki... I think it was the longest thing I had ever written, and it spanned about a year. (Partly because I was so blocked up on ideas.)But I was feeling a bit lost out there, running around the world of stories. So I needed to come back and water my first roots before trying to start branching out in new directions... and I'm happy to be back, and see familiar names in the review box.

I'm going to try and update quickly, and chapters will get longer as well. (Today's update faster than normal, because my computer is going away today... boo hoo..), and I hope you like this, everyone. It's going to be different from the usual stuff, because I'm a bit depressed right now, and I'm thinking a lot more now... about the future.

Wow, I sound a bit like a college packet.

Love you to death, everyone  
.  
**-long winded liahime.**


	3. arcturus

**the.astronomer  
**_by liahime, a short ryuki tale. _

**arcturus . o3 **

Rika was not known for her vanity, but if truth bse told, she _did_ prefer not to look uglier. She would never primp, heavens no. She just did not want to have her hair look like the scrapings of a mad chef's explosion, thank you very much.

For once, she was staring herself down in the mirror, moving her head side to side, as if to figure out who the other girl was, the one with the pitch black hair. She scowled at the box in her hand, the color that was as far from Rumiko and Ryo as she could get- Asphalt Black.

And now, halfway into the crazy, half baked scheme of her own invention, scissors in hand, she could not bring herself to finish the job.

_Honestly, Rika. You'd think you _wanted _to be found here. You're not beautiful, so whatever you do won't change it._ Her sterner side reprimanded her sternly. _Just go and chop it all off. I know you've always wanted to, haven't you? Think about how convenient it will be..._

But the scissors did not move, so deep was her weaker, frivolous side in mourning for the flame of red hair that had been her giveaway, her betrayer. Asphalt Black was perfect for blending in, for making sure that eyes did not linger long- but it had its own effects on the girl in the mirror as well.

It was working though, on gullible Tomoeda.

Every day she expected someone to call her name. A girl with Jeri's hair color, roller-skating by. A kid with goggles kicking a soccer ball down the street. She even stood by her mother's blown up face plastered on the bus stop's shelter- and in her road-colored hair, not a passerby had commented on the similarities.

She was anonymous.

Wasn't this her dream?

Her new apartment was calm, peaceful. All of her things were out and settled in to place. She had enough money to last for a summer- as much as she had hated it; cereal toys had created a comfortable nest egg. She had the quiet, the peace. No homework, no friends, no one.

Time echoed with each step. She _had_ nothing but time now.

But in all her years, maybe Rika had gotten used to the chaos, the people, a bit of spring thaw creeping out of her shelled armor. Silence grew heavy. The clock's ticking was so loud, so painful, she had turned it off, relying on the silent whirr of electronics instead. Nothing but silence, the uncompassionate computer beeping its own farewell as it shut itself down for hibernation.

So now time was silent, but for Rika's pacing. She washed her hair over and over, slumped and stared up at the ceiling on the apartment's cheap sofa. Life was now a play, the world the stage. She was the actress, the one who was masking herself as someone else. And a silent play without cues was the most difficult to act, wordlessly plotting a way through living.

And Rika had never really like mimes.

The phone rang, its loudness surprising her as it quivered on its hook.

She let it ring, once, twice, half of her savoring the sound it made.

It could be her mother, who had probably hired a team of private investigators and secretaries without anything to do to find her and drag her back. It could be Seiko, checking up on her calmly and keeping the detectives away. It could be Kazu, Henry, Jeri, Takato, all calling to ask so many questions, Where. How. When. And _why, why, why?_

It could be Ryo, calling in the way he did, with nothing to say at all but cheerful nothings, not asking her to come back- for _he_ would go to her. He would probably be on his way now, happily running up the stairs to her apartment and pulling her back into life.

The phone rang a third time, the electric cords impatient.

She picked it up, heart strung up in hoping for someone not to call and to call at the same time.

"Hello, we've received your application for the astronomy class. It begins in one hour- please arrive ten minutes early." The secretary's gum popped as she paused. "What was your name again, honey? Your application _was _anonymous, but we need one for this."

She wasn't sure whether to cry or laugh, or just to shoulder it and move on.

As usual, hard-hearted sanity prevailed, crushing everything else as it blocked out the rest of her mind.. "Ayashi," she said, pitching her voice lower than before.

"And your surname?" Another gum pop, lobby music playing softly in the background.

She paused, mentally biting her tongue to stop her first reaction. "It's Akiyama," she said. "Ayashi Akiyama."

She slapped herself mentally, remembering just who that name belonged to. "I mean- I mean that it's actually _Akimatsu,_ not Akiyama."

"Thank-you-have-a-nice-day, Miss Akiyama. Please remember to complete your pre-course reading. We look forward to seeing you and your brother today." The other line clicked off, leaving the blank dial tone drone.

She had gone this far to escape him, but his name followed her. _You could have said anything else, idiot, _she told herself. _Akimatsu, Akatsuki, or just plain anything else. But no, you have to use _his _name. _

Looking down, it seemed as if she had someone's hair lying across her shoulder. Reaching to brush it off without thinking, she realized who the Asphalt Black hair was attached to. The dye was wearing off already, fading to a pink-gray- sunrise viewed through fog. Lovely when it was really the sun, really a cloud- but in hair, she resembled an old bathrobe, grimy and smudged, not at all inconspicuous.

Rika swore.

Two strikes, not a run in her favor.

Things were not going well.

-

The thing about solitude was that it gave you time to think, and the thing about _thinking _was that it never really clarified things. In a confused mind, filled with swirling thoughts and a storm of half-formed plans, there is a strange sanity in chaos. But when things are tucked away, neat and easy to see, true problems stand out- the elephant in the room revealed as the mess was cleared away.

The used textbook lay on the floor, pages open to a blindingly white dot on a stretch of black.

_The fourth brightest star in the sky, approximately 36 light-years from Earth. _The book listed it's viewing points, it's distance, it's temperature- cold hard facts that were sane, that were logical numbers and letters in a well-charted plane.

Isn't this what she wanted? Sanity?

_Arcturus is known as the "bear driver," always following Ursa Major around the pole, a few steps behind the endless journey of the skies._

A doodle had been etched into the side of the book, a love struck student chasing a girl with curly hair, hearts ballooning from his head. He had scribbled in red, nearly illegible in the dim light. _If she was a star, she would be the Ursa Major, because she's scary and will probably eat my guts for lunch and microwave the leftovers for dinner._

_But I would be Arcturus, and happily follow a few steps behind her every time._

Disgusting. If she didn't need to finish the pre-course study, she would have thrown the book in the garbage and thrown it into the apartment furnace, letting the lover fall into his fiery death with banana peels and old junk mail.

_Arcturus is also known as Haris-el-sema, "the keeper of heaven," as well as the "Star of Joy." Perhaps, _the narrator happily observed, _it can be symbolized as the star of persistent love, this brightest star in the northern celestial hemisphere. In ancient southern mythology, it was said that those who wished on the keeper of this star would be blessed with fidelity and eternal love. _

Rika slammed the book and rolled over, staring at the ceiling.

Forty five more days to go.

-

**READERS: **

**Grdiang3l – **I hope I keep it up too.. I'm trying to get back on track again, and I haven't been here for ages.. Hopefully this story will turn out well!

**life sucks, get used to it-** I noticed my snobby blonde girl thing while I was rereading some of my old work, and I decided that there will be _no _snobby blonde girl here! At all! (haha, I'm so proud of myself…) Thank you so much for the compliment (and the first review in a year! I'm flattered!)

**LoneWolf and Hiei-** Yes, all the chapters are named for a star. I don't really know much about them, but I'm learning with the help of the mighty Wikipedia. Sorry for that horribly long wait. Thank you for reading though!

**asn water**- It's too late! I'm sad too. But it _had _to happen… I will miss her red hair, especially now that it's black. Thank you for reviewing!

**karika88- **Sorry for that long wait! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

**Kari Minamoto-**I was incredibly depressed and annoyed with my father. But I'm starting to get over it now… Thank you so much for the advice and for the review!

**takari freek-** Phew. I read the cereal bowl thing earlier that day, and I wanted to use it too. I like cereal toys, so I had to put it in…

**misanu-** Rika's hair is BLACK like mine! But you probably knew that by now. Thank you very much!

**Thank you for patience, and for the reviews that poked her in the side and made her start working. **I know, I know, liahime is a horrible girl. I am terribly, terribly sorry. I started HIGHSCHOOL, and got sidetracked, and my brain died on me, as well as whatever ability I have to write. I'm trying to get it back. (Plot is coming in the next chapter, I swear.) While I tried, my brain short-circuited and did odd things- a lot like my computer- and I ended up with this short and puny chapter.

That's okay, because Arcturus is a small star.

Never mind, my dear Wikipedia told me it wasn't. It's a really big fat giant one. But the next chapter will be much better, I promise! (Ok, I hope.) Thank you for reading, everyone! I'll try much harder to update quickly from now on, and hopefully the chapters won't be bad! Any comments, compliments, criticisms, (and especially..) star facts on the top of your head will be absolutely and dearly loved. I need to work hard to get better and faster!

**Thank you for reading!**

-**liahime**


	4. bacchus

**the.astronomer  
**by liahime, a short ryuki tale.

**bacchus.04**

_If it was a drink, it would be a strong one. _

If love was bottled and sold, it would fly off the shelves and it would never be opened up. People were simply not brave enough to try it- because love went two ways. Like fine wine, it was beautiful, grew better with age, left you with a pleasant buzz for a long time.

But in the end, it leaves you with a hangover, your liver dying and your head cracking open in the morning when reality comes back into play.

The two in the bar did not look at each other, did not acknowledge anyone but the bottles they were emptying slowly, tiny glass by glass. Chardonnay and Pinot Noir, the classier side of the smoky place's alcohol spectrum were being downed, shot by shot by tiny glass shot.

Holding alcohol wasn't a problem when the money was flowing in, so the bar keeper poured one more glass for the young woman with the flame red hair, no matter how red her face was getting.

The other classy wallet on the west side looked up at him, his blue eyes blurred.

_Stupid rich doctor's brat, he's going to get himself mugged as soon as he leaves._ The barkeeper looked at him politely. "Sir?"

"Tell her not to drink so much."

"Who, sir?" He knew exactly who the boy was talking about, but with the drunk it was better to keep them talking long enough for their throat to feel dry enough for just one more cup, one more tip.

"That girl. The one with the hair."

Polishing a vintage beer bottle, the barkeeper looked at her, sitting still and cold among all the thrashing young life a few feet away. She really was drunk, her head drooping, hair matching the shade of her cheeks.

"She's a paying customer."

"Of course she is," the doctor's brat slurred, "she always finishes things. Always. I'll pay for the next bottle she'll have. Just don't give it to her."

"That's not possible-"

"Do it."

"With all respect sir, may I ask why-"

The brat looked at him, and for a moment his blue eyes unblurred, focusing. "She's not the one who's supposed to be sad."

_If it was a sad song, it would be a long one. _

The wine bottle was ordered, and delivered.

Full and sloshing.

Uncorking it, the red haired girl let the clear liquid pour into her cup. She raised her cup, and tilted her head back, letting the coldness flow down her throat-

And promptly spat it right out onto the table.

"Is this _milk_?!"

"Oh, my mistake, miss."

"I order a pint of Noir, and you get me a milk?" Her voice wasn't slurred for one who had been drinking so long. It was crisp, biting, the raw edge standing out like a ridge on an angry cat's back. "Throw this away."

"With all respect, miss, it was the gentleman over there who ordered it for you." He waved a hand at the left side of the bar table. "Him, over there. I can fill his next bottle with juice, if you'd like to pay for the revenge." Sniffing an opening for some extra cash in this pretty young rich girl and the stupid rich son on the other side of the room, he smiled. "I'll give you a discount."

"No," she said, her voice's ridge settling back down, "he's had enough."

"Enough, miss?"

"Yes," she said, a queen who had been contradicted by a peasant. "He has had enough."

The half-priced opening band for the night had wrapped up their last college rager song, the head banging and the wild thrashing and convolutions had slowed down. The microphones screeched to a halt, the drums crashed with a bang like kitchen pots falling from the counter, complete with the high pitched screams of an enthusiastic musician or two.

"And now folks, we're going to go slow—"

"Get me a beer," the flame haired girl said to him, letting her head fall to the counter. "Get me a beer now."

"Miss, if there's a health problem, I'm bound by law not to serve you-"

"I have a cardiac fracture," she said, "but that is all, and it's not important. Get me a beer."

The barkeeper, like all wise providers of alcohol to those who drowned things out, stayed silent and handed her a cold beer from the ice chest, suddenly fascinated with the plastic wine rack behind him.

Sometimes, it is best to shut up when the slow songs started to play.

The guitars strummed, the singer crooned into a static filled microphone. Couples gravitated to the floor, attached themselves together as if they were puzzle pieces finally finding their matching piece. Offtune and cracked, the words began to fill the air, thicken the sticky air with a tiny hint of sweetness.

"_If the sun should refuse to rise-- And the moon doesn't hang in the night_-"

She was staring, at everywhere and anywhere but him. The left side of the bar didn't exist. And if she had her way, neither did her ears, neither did the stupid sappy song and the pairs that used it for a chance to make out and lock lips and share saliva.

Because love is only beautiful to those that are already in it.

"_Love is sweet misery-_"

The beer joined the half bottle of expensive wine, all puddled up onto the floor around the stool, like dark blood dripping from a fracture of the cardiac heart. She didn't need any more buzzing- as if the thoughts in her head weren't enough of it already- as if the problems that were ricocheting off each other weren't too much for her to handle, even without a half drowned sense of sanity She simply needed something to do, something for her hands while the rest of her drowned in confusion.

Where to go, where to stay, what to do with herself after what she had had was all broken, all the awkward romance they had cobbled together for a few seconds one crazy night- and how to erase it all as fast as she could.

The band on stage got into an argument about the next verse, bickering as the drummer made a colossal attempt to drown out the sound and hide it into a makeshift drum solo, constant quarter notes banging like a military march as he ran out of ideas.

Maybe, she wondered, that was it. A drum solo to hide her escape. Something chaotic, something big enough that he'd be thrown off for at least for a few moments.

Head still down, hair spilling over the dim wood, she began to plot.

_If it was a color, it would be deep, deep blue. _

He was watching her, and knew she saw him as she stiffened and snapped.

He always had, she always had. It was one given in this chaos.

He wasn't sure who was supposed to be in love, wasn't sure who was supposed to have their heart broken, and how many times. Keeping score was beyond him. She was supposed to be happy, his heart broken quietly without anyone ever knowing. Plus one, her. Minus, him. Score, zero.

But he had messed it all up that night, in between dying stars and daylight.

He had never been much use at games that required thinking, after all. His excuse- he was a _guy_, honestly. At the point of his life where hormones took first control, his brain wasn't fully developed; there was the eternal use of immaturity to blame his rash actions on.

However, the wine in him mused, it _was_ a game that required two people. And she had participated just as much as he did. So what if it lasted an hour, stuck in the fading dark blue, when she had lost all her careful safe guards with lack of sleep, lack of caffeine, way too much work than should be expected for a senior girl with a clear scholarship to the college of her choice. She had been there too, and when he had kissed her the night coming back from the restaurant, _she_ had kissed him back.

The smug wine nodded, rocking back and forth on his pain and pushing its knees in. Of course it was right. He should be confident.

The band was screaming, the drums were rolling and rolling on, and he couldn't help wincing. He knew how she felt about loud noises, how they unnerved her and threw her off balance and the unshakeable sanity and clarity and all the maturity she had. Loud noises were chaos, they broke off her cycle of thought, made her not panic, but to stand on edge, like a cat in the presence of a supposedly tame dog- it could, at any moment, turn on her. The girl slumped over, her ears buried in a wave of hair.

She had always really hated loud chaotic things.

After all, he was one.

Ah, it was his fault, okay?! He'd just admit it now and get it all over with.

So couldn't he enjoy the memory if he wanted to, in peace for once? Without all this stupid guilt?

Looking at the girl slumped over, her wine a small sea underneath her feet, he knew that it was impossible. He could send her all the milk he wanted to, get her to an AA meeting, but he'd still feel guilty.

Because he couldn't help wanting another night in front of her house, late night in the deep blue while the stars were dying.

The boy always got what he wanted, in some way or another. And if he didn't, then he lived his motto- just try again until you get it in some way, legal or illegal.

And because of this, he wasn't going to stop and let her go.

She was sitting up straight, knowing a vague shadow of what she was going to do, an idea approaching her on the horizon.

The young woman stared forward, head proud and aligned, seemingly not drunk at all but for her sway and burnt face. She was looking at everyone, everything, all but the left side of the bar. She went first, her face still red as she fumbled with her cell phone, calling a hired car. He watched her leave, waited for her to weave her way through the crowd. Her hair was a memory of a candle in the electric lights- soft and bright and calming as it ducked and staggered unsteadily through the mass of impatient couples waiting for a love song.

A dark faced, ruddy sophomore draining an overflowing beer stared after her happily. Slapping his hand onto the counter, he grinned comradely at the quiet drinking man next to him. "Bet you next drink that I can get her into my car. What do you say, huh?" He winked knowingly. "Bet you that a cute thing like her wouldn't put up a fight at all."

The quiet man with the blue eye's was standing. His back was straight, his slur slowing, his wine not yet empty, but like him, slightly hollow inside, despite appearances. Not having a purpose anymore will do that to things, draining a bit of depth from their shadows, making them a bit smaller inside. He stared down at the sophomore, a man without a purpose, just a wine bottle, just a common drunk that would bet on a random girl's morality and a drunk's force.

_But if we're talking about heartache, it would be you._

"You're wrong."

The wine bottle went up, came down with a crash and a howl.

Ryo Akiyama left the bar, the bottle lay in pieces.

At least one of them had found a purpose tonight.

* * *

**Angy- **thank you! High school can really get horrible sometimes. But I'll try to scrape through with this!  
**Ao-Senshi- **First of all, thank you for the compliment! I've been seeing your names in the review lists and reading your stuff since I was just starting, and the review I got in the early stages of Thorns helped me turn the story around into the right direction. Please criticize my work so I can get better! If I go OOC, please catch me…It really is an honor to be told I've gotten better at writing!  
**asn water- **Thank you very much! I'm not quite sure myself where the story's going yet. It'll probably end up crazily out of what I planned, just like everything else I write. Hopefully it won't be too bad though!  
**misanu- **Ah, no, go do your homework! I can always make up a star and pretend it's somewhere. (And I'm sure bacchus is a star somewhere out in the universe..) Thank you!  
**LoneWolf and Hiei- **I'll try to make longer updates! Glad you liked this. Thank you very much!  
**Kari Minamoto- **Plot is coming, I swear. It's taking me such a long time because I want to establish things first, so readers won't get so confused, which is a mistake I've made in the past. Thank you very much for the review! 

**authoress note.  
**Yes, I suck for taking so long. I'm juggling everything right now, and I'm being lazy and uninspired. So I apologize.

Not having watched Digimon of any season since sixth grade kind of slows me down too. So if I'm OOC, please tell me right away! I really need to rewatch things on youtube. The only thing that keeps me writing is loving ryuki, and I guess you could call it a payback, in a way. If I hadn't written ryuki, I wouldn't have started writing in the first place.

I apologize, since the chapter updates will be erratic and slow. I'm tired, and writing like this is hard to do for me because I've never written ryuki like this. (By the way, this chapter is entirely flashback, for clarification..) But I still adore all the reviews popping up in my inbox! They flatter me waay more than I deserve for this kind of writing, really. My head will get too big! Please criticize and catch me when I get OOC, everyone!

Thank you, readers!


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